


Take An Angel By The Wings

by Bincal



Category: iKON (Korea Band)
Genre: Also I’ve started to prefer the ship name bobbin, Alternative Universe - Bobbin watch pewdiepie, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Deals with events following June 12, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, I’m sorry I can’t write pure fluff, M/M, anyone else? - Freeform, double b is just rly awkward to say idk, this both hurt and helped the hurt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:54:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23595661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bincal/pseuds/Bincal
Summary: “Sometimes I wish I could just fly away, so far that no one would ever find me.”“Not even me?”“Hm… you could grow wings and fly away with me?”God, did Bobby want to.If wishes could still come true: then he wished for nothing more than the ability to let Hanbin soar, if only to witness this wistful smile for a little longer.
Relationships: Kim Hanbin | B.I/Kim Jiwon | Bobby
Comments: 3
Kudos: 36





	Take An Angel By The Wings

“Don’t. I know what you want to say.” 

It didn’t take much to notice the conflicted look of disappointment on Hanbin’s face. It was the first sight he had been greeted with upon entering the dorms, having only just arrived home from the airport. The rest of the members had headed straight to their childhood homes, wanting to spend what little break they had with their families. But Bobby somehow felt it: that Hanbin would be waiting for them. For all he knew the boy had spent the last few days in this apartment, sleeping in Bobby’s bed to cling onto his lingering scent; snacking on things left behind by Yunhyeong and pretending they were made for him; lounging on the couch to watch movies alone and reminiscing all the times they had done the same on lazy afternoons as a seven. 

The mental image had Bobby edging too close to his recently ever-present feeling of helplessness so he turned away briefly under the pretence of untying his shoes. He needed a moment to steel himself, so as not to break down there and then. When he finally turned back to Hanbin with a faintly plastered smile, the younger boy had let his face fall to one of more open hurt than he usually let himself show.

“If you knew then you shouldn’t have done it.” His words tried to be commanding; but his voice was timid, the emotion in it poorly concealed. Bobby couldn’t hide the tremble of his hands this time, swallowing down the knot that had formed in his throat. Hanbin looked so _small._ Not just because he had lost weight over the last few months, but because there was something far more vital he had lost: confidence, self esteem, sense of self. All the things that had once made him, _him._ The charismatic rapper had now deflated into the fragile boy before him: tightly clasped hands, cracked lips, newly dyed black hair flatly falling into his eyes and shaking form swimming in an oversized hoodie that Bobby recognised as his own. 

So Bobby walked forward, opting to ignore the statement in favour of gripping his hands around uncharacteristically sunken shoulders and burying his face into a cold neck. He felt small hands grabbing and clenching onto his own jacket; desperately holding on yet too shy to pull him closer. 

As though he didn’t deserve this, as though Bobby was a prize that he had unrightfully earned but couldn’t resist letting go of. 

Bobby could barely hold himself back from breaking down, the body curled tightly in his arms the only thing grounding him in that moment. His own hands tightened in the fabric of the stolen hoodie, probably stretching the soft cotton to irreparable amounts, but none of that mattered. Even less so when he felt a jarring dampness meet his own shoulder, the realisation evoking his own fits of shaking as he attempted in vain to hold back his own tears. 

“Happy Birthday, Hanbinnie.” The other’s breath hitched slightly, then released in several short gasps on his exhale. 

“You’re late.” And he was. It had been days since Hanbin’s birthday, all of iKON too occupied with fan meetings and performances when the only place he wanted to be was right here, holding the man he loved in his arms. He had called Hanbin on his birthday, of course, but there was only so much he could say over the phone. And that Instagram post… 

He pulled away, cradling the painstakingly beautiful face in his own calloused hands. If feeling the younger’s tears was hard, then seeing the twisted vices streaming down his cheeks was purely heartbreaking. “I know. I’m sorry.” He pressed a kiss to the defined nose, _such a perfect nose._ Then another to each of his eyelids; the onyx eyes beneath them had screwed shut when they felt unable to meet his own gaze. Then to his wet cheeks; gently, lovingly, somehow feeling unable to convey the extent to which his heart ached for the other. “I love you.” He pressed a soft kiss to the tight lips before him, speaking the words into their pink flesh. “I love you.” He said it again, and again, unable to say it enough.

Hanbin didn’t respond for a long time, just standing and accepting the gesture. But when Bobby leaned in to kiss him again for the nth time, he lightly pushed him away before the lips reached their destination. The older didn’t even manage to say anything before the eyes opened, rendering him speechless when drowning in their endless depths. There was so much _emotion_ caught there, it was impossible to place words to even one. 

Instead he just leaned in again, feeling the lips move against his own this time. 

When Bobby had posted that video, the last thing he wanted was to burden Hanbin. In a way, he just wanted to make a point: desperately trying to fool himself into believing that his wings weren’t as clipped as they felt. 

But the logical part of him knew it was fruitless, the action nothing but internal protest with no achievable outcome. 

Maybe he did still have wings; but what use were they when he was powerless against the intensity of the wind, hurling gusts that continued to toss him further away from where he wished he could be, _from where Hanbin was._ The reality remained: there was nothing he could do to change the situation. 

But at the same time, it wasn’t meaningless. He could still do _this_ , hold Hanbin in his arms tight enough to stop him falling apart. He could still kiss his tears when they fell, even if he couldn’t prevent their appearance in the first place.

“Want some birthday cake? I bought some earlier, it’s in the fridge.” 

And for the first time since the incident, Hanbin smiled. It was small, hesitant, but it was _there_ , and that had to count for something. 

* * *

“I’ve joined a new company.” 

Bobby released a painful whine at the news, as though it had physically hurt him. He tightened his arms around Hanbin’s back and burrowed his nose into the other’s neck, nuzzling it and inhaling the scent he’d had to go without for so long. Hanbin sighed and carded his hands through the older’s locks, dry and damaged from over-dyeing. 

“I’m leaving iKON.” Bobby huffed in reply, evoking a frustrated sigh from the other.

“You can’t, you know that.” When Bobby only groaned in response, he continued with a more pressing tone. “I’m being serious, Bobby. There’s already rumours spreading that one of the members wants to leave. You have to stop being so obvious, the boys need you. iKON needs a rapper.”

Bobby growled at the statement, planting his hands on the bed to push up and level himself above Hanbin. His eyes met the other’s resigned ones, the sight only fuelling his anger more. “IKON NEEDS _YOU_!” Hanbin flinched at the outburst but was unable to retort before Bobby was continuing, “Can’t you see how much we’re struggling without you? We’re shit on stage, we constantly look depressed in pictures, We-“ he stopped, suddenly noticing the tears brimming in Hanbin’s eyes; his anger deflating instantly and worry taking its place. “Hey, I’m sorry, okay? Let’s just not talk about this now. It’s been so long since I’ve been able to see you properly, not since that day…” 

‘Properly’, because technically he had seen Hanbin once; in the worst possible scenario. A video: appearing on the news out of nowhere, showing the boy walking out of his questioning. Frail, skinny, dull-eyed; so clearly the same person but so unrecognisably different. Bobby had felt physically sick, the memory now an unwanted scar printed into his mind. It was an image that came back to taunt him in his most fragile hours; when he lay, unable to sleep, ruminating over regrets and what ifs; a reminder of the fact that Bobby had failed. He wasn’t able to save Hanbin, to be there for him when he needed him most. He was forced to do tour after stupid tour whilst the person he owed his life to was stuck at home watching their world fall apart. 

Bobby lowered himself to the bed to wrap his arms around Hanbin again, impossibly tight in their grip. Afraid that if he’d loosen them even slightly, Hanbin would slip away again. “You’ve lost weight.” The comment escaped his lips unwillingly; more as a broken remark to himself than with the expectation of a reply. 

Hanbin stiffened, then tightened his arms around Bobby’s shoulders. “I’m sorry.” 

“Stop. Stop apologising, you have nothing to feel sorry for. You did nothing wrong.” Bobby lifted his head again, reaching to grab Hanbin’s face between his two hands. His eyes lingered too long on the younger’s unsettlingly protruding cheekbones before finding their home in his eyes. _Those beautiful eyes_. Once so bright and honest, now shrouded in a dim mist of helplessness. Bobby let their foreheads meet, shaky breaths mingling mournfully. “I failed you. I should have been there for you. I shouldn’t have let you fall this far.”

Hanbin inhaled too quickly at that, a choked sort of whine sounding out on his out-breath. But he said nothing in retaliation, temporarily losing the ability of speech. Instead, he angled his face to press dry lips against softer ones, willing the other to feel his sincerity through action alone. 

Bobby moved his lips briefly, carefully, before pulling back. His hands moved to gently cradle the dark strands, brushing through them with such care it was as though he was attempting to tame a frightened animal. “Why didn’t you cut it? Or re-dye it? Why let it grow out like that?” He asked, despite knowing the answer. Hanbin had stopped caring about something as insignificant as his appearance. He probably hadn’t even looked into a mirror since the news came out, too ashamed to see the reflection of someone who betrayed himself. The thought made Bobby’s chest ache so painfully that he leaned forward to press a short kiss to Hanbin’s lips, a signal that he didn’t need a verbal response, then tucked his face back into his neck. 

“I’ve dyed it now.” Hanbin opted to say, not answering the question but not letting the topic die either. “My mum forced me to, after that quote-on-quote ‘embarrassing display’.” It was clear that Hanbin was trying to lift the mood, the joke strained and likely exaggerated, not really hitting as humorously with its depressing context.

Bobby still snorted, if only to lighten the weight bearing down on his chest. “Sounds like her. She wouldn’t want her neighbourhood ahjummas thinking her son was donning some highly questionable hairstyles after all the praises she’d been sharing.”

“She doesn’t praise me that much. And if she does, it’s only to shut up that one snobby ahjumma who keeps bragging about how her daughter is a doctor or whatever.” 

“Doctors, idols, both kinda save lives anyway. What’s the difference.”

The snort Hanbin gave at that was less forced, escaping less consciously from his lips. “No offence, I mean I can’t speak for you, but I don’t think I’m talented enough to rap a fan’s fever away.” 

“Clearly, you’ve still got ways to go before you can reach my capabilities. I can rap _anything_ away.” 

“Even my sadness?” The question drew both of them short. Hanbin clearly hadn’t intended to say it out loud, judging by the sudden tensing of his body and the sharp inhale beneath him. 

Bobby lifted his head, staring down at Hanbin again seriously. The way the other boy opened his mouth and shifted away warned that he was about to change the topic, passing over the unwanted confession as though it hadn’t spoken volumes, so Bobby cut in before he got the chance. 

“Yes.” Hanbin’s eyes found his again, searching. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” And then - because as serious as Bobby was, he still didn’t want to depress Hanbin any further - he tried to lift the mood. “Bitch lasagna, bitch lasagna, T-Series ain’t nothing but a bitch lasagna-“ 

The resulting laugh from Hanbin reaffirmed his decision. 

“ _Why-_ if you’re gonna rap, you might as well do one of your own songs?” But Hanbin was smiling, and that made Bobby smile, wide-mouthed and toothy. Because nothing was more beautiful than the way Hanbin’s lips curled up so easily, or the way his eyes squinted crookedly, a single eyebrow twitching lightly as he tried to withhold more laughter. 

Bobby shrugged, feigning nonchalance though it was likely failing from his inability to keep a straight face, “Wouldn’t have had the same impact. It’s a masterpiece of a song, none of my own can live up to it.” 

“Right. Good thing Pewdiepie didn’t enter SMTM with us, not sure you would’ve won so easily.” 

“Don’t underestimate me. I might not be able to write legendary bangers like you two, but I can still out-rap anyone in my sleep.” 

Hanbin whistled, “Bold words. Might have to challenge you to a rap battle then, I’ve got a reputation to uphold. Especially now that I’m going solo...” 

The mood dampened again, the reality difficult to escape for longer than a few minutes. 

Bobby let himself return to the other, gently kissing the heavy thoughts away. Cradling the face he loved so dearly in his hands, the tips of his fingers rubbing small circles into the hair at the back of its neck. Hanbin sighed wistfully against his lips, eyes remaining closed even after Bobby had pulled back as if to linger in the feeling. 

So Bobby just admired him, how breathtaking he looked in this rare moment of complete ease. The bags beneath his eyes were still starkly visible against the pale of his skin, but the way his brows relaxed from their usual furrowing and lips parted slightly in a sigh betrayed a brief moment of content, vulnerability. A moment that wouldn’t last, not for long, but its existence in the present was irrefutable. Bobby ingrained the sight to his memory, wishing he could frame it on his wall to look back on every moment the future terrified him.

He let his lips press to a closed eyelid, then another: nothing but butterflies fluttering against a soft field of posies; flitting from one destination to another with a languidness that only comes from infinite time to do so.

“When are you going?” Hanbin’s lips barely moved, the mumble only heard due to their close proximity. 

“Not for a long time.” 

“Are you going back to your-“

“No. My mum understands, it hasn’t been that long since I last saw her. Plus, I want to be with you.” A slight choking sound escaped Hanbin’s throat at the comment, but he didn't try to convince Bobby otherwise. Likely because, as much he couldn’t bring himself to admit it, Hanbin desperately needed him to stay too. So he let himself relax again, arms tightening more confidently around Bobby, pleading to never have to let go. 

Bobby was going to help Hanbin: look after him, feed him, comfort him. Bobby was going to love Hanbin, now more openly and intensely than ever, even if Hanbin could no longer love himself. 

**Author's Note:**

> Title: Angel By The Wings - Sia 
> 
> Um I tried . 
> 
> This was actually originally two drabbles that I wrote at the time of of the two events mentioned in this (Hanbin’s questioning, Hanbin’s birthday) but it was just self-indulgent hurt with no comfort because it was how I tried to cope with it all. 
> 
> But I know I’ve only really been posting angst lately (with one exception of smut but I actually wrote that one ages ago and only posted it now), so I just thought y’all deserve something that’s a little (not hugely) less depressing. 
> 
> It’s actually really difficult for me to write happy or healthy relationships, which you guys probably noticed. I’m a really emotional writer, which means I’m very heavily influenced by how I feel when I write. It’s why I’m so inconsistent with my writing, because I don’t prioritise plot in my writing anywhere near as much as I prioritise emotional expression. Unfortunately, I’ve had a really unhealthy experience with love and relationships (lol rip me), and it’s been especially intense recently, so I struggle to separate those feelings from my own writing. This is the real reason why Hiraeth is taking so long to update, because I’m trying to stick to the original emotion I planned the story with, rather than letting the plot get affected by my recent experiences. 
> 
> Sorry for rambling lol, I just wanted to give you all an explanation. So please be understanding if I can’t really write crack or smut right now like I used to, because it’s just been a bit too difficult for me lately. I definitely want to write more again!! I just don’t know when that will be..
> 
> Anyway, as always,  
> Check out my twitter: @aj_binc  
> And if you wanna say something anonymously,  
> My curiouscat: aj_binc


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